


i wanna grow old with you (but not that soon)

by justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops



Category: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, i was indulging myselffff, usually don’t like to write anything that feels overly sappy but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops/pseuds/justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops
Summary: When Tom had mooned on about the two of them growing old and gray and wrinkled together in this house all those years ago, Huck hadn’t pictured it happening quite so soon. Or quite like this.
Relationships: Huckleberry Finn/Tom Sawyer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	i wanna grow old with you (but not that soon)

When Tom had mooned on about the two of them growing old and gray and wrinkled together in this house all those years ago, Huck hadn’t pictured it happening quite so soon. Or quite like this.

“Oh, honey. You’re getting your first gray hair, there.”

Huck raises his head from the pillow and blinks. “What?”

“Lookie right here,” Tom whispers. With a small gasp, he gently grasps the single strand of silver hair between his thumb and forefinger and holds it in front of Huck’s face. “You see that?”

Huck is motionless at first. Then he props himself up on his elbows, head resting in the palm of his hand. “Huh,” he exhales thoughtfully. “I thought you wasn’t supposed to get those until…later.”

“Later, hm?” Tom snorts. “Thirty-five seems to be late enough, don’t it?” He disregards the way Huck’s lips thin in obvious disapproval before continuing. “You got darker hair. I reckon it just shows more easy that way.” He offers a small, reassuring smile before leaning over and blowing out the candle on the nightstand. Then he falls against the pillows and tugs the covers over his shoulder. “Good night.”

Huck isn’t quite tired yet, though, now that the subject has been raised. He stays sitting upright in the darkness, staring at nothing in particular. Then he shifts around a little and looks down at Tom. “…You got any?” he asks softly, out of nothing but curiosity. His eyes squint as they rove up towards Tom’s head of auburn hair, and Tom tries not to squirm.

“Got a couple,” he confesses with a grimace, and sits up again. “And they been there for a little while now. But I wasn’t planning on announcing it to nobody.”

“Oh, I see. You didn’t want me noticing the way you noticed mine,” Huck chuckles quietly.

“…Ain’t my fault you ain’t as perceptive as I am,” Tom parries back.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend so much time messing with your hair, you might notice ‘em less.”

“Aw, shut up—” And Tom tosses his pillow in Huck’s face just in time to smother his sniggering. He lies back down, very noticeably trying and failing to keep a straight face. “And go to sleep, _old man._ ”

Huck places the pillow gingerly on top of his own, making as much noise as he possibly can while fluffing it. “Don’t worry, I’ll be rested up just fine with this extra pillow here,” he sighs, and lies down as well. For good measure, he forces a yawn past his lips.

Huck gives him…maybe ten seconds.

Tom broods for a very brief moment before flipping over. He ends up not lasting even five.

“…Huck,” peeps Tom. “Huck, gimme my pillow back.”

Huck remains unresponsive, eyes glued shut. Suppressing the urge to burst into laughter proves to be no small feat. He would feign snoring, but knows that might be pressing his luck.

“You stop that,” Tom scoffs, jostling him a bit more forcefully. “Huck, c’mon. That’s my good pillow…!”

“So the spring chicken needs just as much sleep as the old man over here, huh?” Huck finally crows.

“Yes. Yes, he does.”

Well. Huck is feeling nice tonight, so he hands over the pillow without any more fuss.

“Thank you,” Tom says very pointedly, and puts it back in its rightful place.

“Course,” Huck replies, as sweet as pie. He leans over to press a kiss to Tom’s cheek, and is swatted away by his hand—but only momentarily. Tom pauses and begrudgingly lowers it. A snort catches in Huck’s throat.

“Do it before I change my mind.” And Huck does.

**Author's Note:**

> is being 35 actually old? of course not. but then again i’m not 35 and it’s easier said than done to feel that way. maybe i’ll get around to writing about them being fat, old cranky men some other time.


End file.
